


Common Ground

by Iturbide



Series: Robin x Everyone Challenge [2]
Category: Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Drabble, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-17
Updated: 2017-06-17
Packaged: 2018-11-15 02:31:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11221425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iturbide/pseuds/Iturbide
Summary: Robin and Vaike may not seem to have much in common...but that doesn't mean they can't find ways to get along.





	Common Ground

**Author's Note:**

  * For [gunhorse](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gunhorse/gifts).



> I casually mentioned to my friend recently that I can see Robin paired with pretty much every available in-game character, so she dared me to write a Vaike x Robin drabble.
> 
> _I REALLY DO NOT BACK DOWN FROM A CHALLENGE._

They always took the field by storm, the tall, lean tactician and the stocky, broad-shouldered fighter who battled by his side. The Shepherds often laughed about what a perfect pair they made: the axe-wielder keeping foes away from the frail mage, while Robin called rapidfire commands to keep Vaike from losing his head to an enemy sword. The fighter, naturally, feigned loud offense and challenged the whole of the troop that thought him so dense; the tactician, for his part, remained silent each time, nursing his cider by the fire while the others talked endlessly around him.

But in the quiet hours while the camp slept, unbeknownst to the Shepherds, the battlefield partners made fine tentmates, as well.

The start had been rough. Vaike balked at every order, fought against every command, charged into danger without forethought and often enough landed himself in the infirmary. The tactician's pointed looks were impossible to miss, and only served to rouse the fighter's ire further. "Why should I have t' listen t' some scrawny little shit who won't even bother pickin' up a sword?" he demanded. "Real men have muscle. No offense, Ricken," he added to the boy, who shrugged and carried on with supper. Everyone knew the issue was not with Robin's size or strength, but with his attitude.

But there came a day when, isolated from the rest of the army and in dire straits, Vaike saw no choice but to heed the tactician's words, the quick commands from just out of sight -- left, block, lunge, parry, feint, attack! And though the wounds he suffered left him bedridden for several days, he did escape with his life.

The fighter stopped protesting to every order after that. When Robin spoke, Vaike moved out -- and the engagements became a far cry easier than they had been before. The tactician began to relax somewhat. And Vaike saw, as they left a battlefield with every man alive, that Robin could even smile when he stopped worrying for a few seconds.

Of course, war was never easy. And with their tactician mired in the thick of battle with the rest of the troops, it was only a matter of time before the worst happened. Too much chaos around them, too little attention to himself -- all it took was an instant. An unlucky spear strike, gashing deep into his leg, and he fell to the muddy ground, fumbling in a blind panic for his tome as the mounted lancer prepared the finishing blow...

...but it never came. The enemy fell, instead, a hand axe lodged in his chest plate as Vaike charged to Robin's defense. Between the tome-wielder's spells and the fighter's deft axe work, they managed to keep their lives for another day.

In the calm that followed the battle's end, Vaike tried to help the tactician up. But the pain and blood loss were a bit too much for Robin to manage alone; with a long-suffering sigh, the fighter hefted the tactician up over his shoulder and started toward the rest of the troop.

"Gods' beards, man, you been skippin' supper? A sack of grain weighs more'n you," Vaike remarked.

"I'm flattered," the tactician mumbled.

"I ain't tryin' to flatter you. A stiff breeze'd carry you off, you're skinny as a cornstalk under that coat."

Robin was laid up in the infirmary for a few days with his wounds. And once the healers finally gave their blessings, he slipped straight back into old habits.

...with one exception.

"Can't have our tactician runnin' around half starved," the fighter announced as he barged into Robin's tent. "Come on, supper's done."

"I have days worth of work to catch up on--"

"After supper," Vaike finished, picking the tactician up out of his chair and chivvying him off to the cookfires.

In the weeks that followed, Robin found himself getting less and less done. There were the frequent breaks for meals that the fighter reminded him about, of course -- but Vaike also dragged him off to the sparring grounds at least once a day to train with something other than his tome. "I know you're big on the fancy books, but what happens if ya lose it, huh?" the fighter demanded. "Can't have you bitin' it out there 'cause ya got no way to defend yourself."

Robin tried. Truly.

But as Vaike's blunted training axe batted the tactician's sword away for the eighth time that afternoon and Robin reached instinctively for the book tucked in his breast pocket, the fighter groaned. "Ogres' teeth, man, it's just a damn training exercise! What's the matter with you!?"

"I don't like this."

The tactician had been shaking for the better part of the afternoon, but Vaike only noticed as the man's knees folded under him. "Close combat. Crossing blades. The risks, the demands, th-the...I can't. I can't, I can't, I'm trying, I SWEAR, but I just can't..."

"H-hey. Hey, whoa, take it easy..."

Robin was grateful for the fact that they were alone. The dam had broken wide, and he could not stop the flood, sobbing wretchedly into the muffling folds of his coat while the fighter awkwardly patted his back. He was not used to seeing men cry. And particularly not the ever-stoic tactician.

"'m sorry," Vaike mumbled as Robin's tears at last trickled to a stop and he drew his knees up to his chest. "I didn't know it was that hard on ya. Should'a said somethin'."

"And prove myself still weaker in your eyes?" the tactician mumbled.

"Horse shit, man. For gods' sakes, you could clear a field without liftin' a damn finger if you wanted, with how you hand down orders. An' instead you're right there in the thick of it, puttin' your life on the line like all the rest of us, even though you're scared t'death. Makes you...makes you a braver man than most, fightin' even when ya don't gotta."

Robin mumbled something wordless as the fighter sat on the ground beside him. "How 'bout this: from here on out, you just play around with your books an' call the shots, an' The Vaike here'll do all the blade crossin' for ya. Everybody wins, right?"

Robin considered pointing out that he didn't see how the fighter won anything in the arrangement. But he did appreciate it, even still.

Vaike was true to his word, no less: from then on, he kept close by the tactician's side, cutting down every axe-wielder and lancer who tried to corner them while Robin's wicked lightning bolts felled even the sturdiest of swordsmen. They found they could depend on each other. They found they could trust each other.

And gradually, they found the other's hidden truths. The dreams that Vaike sought strength to chase, which the tactician silently swore to help him achieve; and the nightmares that haunted Robin's every hour, and made the fighter realize why the man so often took first watch.

"You know," Vaike began, trying to be casual and instead feeling awkward, "if you're havin' trouble sleepin' or anything, you can crash my tent. Heck, anything you're scared of ought'a be scared of _me._ I'll kick its ass from here to Valm."

The tactician briefly imagined the fighter on a boat, kicking a monster across the waves. It made him smile, which in turn made Vaike grin and laugh deep in his chest. "I'll consider it," Robin decided.

Several nights later when his watch was up, rather than return to his own tent, the tactician slipped into Vaike's. The fighter, groggy as he was, recognized his guest at once -- and with a great yawn, he dragged the tactician down into the blankets and fell back to sleep within seconds.

It felt strange. But, Robin had to admit, the warmth was welcome. And the strength of the arms around him chased away the ever-present terrors, if only for a moment, and brought quiet, welcome rest along with them.

Vaike still wasn't sure what to name the feeling between them, some days. Gods knew, he did like the ladies. But a part of him had always been a man's man, too. And at the end of the day, as they sat together on first watch and the tactician pointed out the stars to him, he decided he didn't want to question it. 

Love is love.


End file.
